Speechless
by saoulbete
Summary: He'd never thought he'd see the day that anyone would render John Adams speechless.


A/N yeah. I love this musical. Maybe its cause I live outside of philly and do the Indepence Mall tour at least 3-4 times a year, and watch Washington Crossing the Delaware every year, or maybe it's that the movie of the musical made me enjoy freshman history ten times more, but...here you go. Adams/Dickinson slash. Originally posted under a former penname, reposted under this one.

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He enjoyed this. Enjoyed watching the way that Adams fidgeted and squirmed. The casually desperate attempts to find things to cover his lap with. He'd seen the man grab everything from a copy of Franklin's newest drabble, to a stack of correspondence from General Washington, to today's choice-a handkerchief that was proving to be terribly ineffective at hiding much of anything. "Might I remind you, Mr. Adams that your grievances do not lie with the British people, the subjects of the crown who are conscripted to fight against us?" Resting one hand on either side of the chair, he leaned in over Adams' back, watching a single bead of sweat trickle down the man's forehead. It certainly wasn't from the heat outside-they'd been there for six months now, and the cold Philadelphia winter was in full force. "Will you tell our men to draw arms against our very brethren?" His nose was nearly buried in Adams' hair, as he whispered into his ear. "Would you, John, take up arms against your brother?"

"I-" He could not hide the smirk at the way that Adams' voice cracked as he tried to speak. "These men are not our brethren. Our brothers are Americans, born and raised an ocean away from the British crown." Truth be told, he wasn't particularly paying attention to anything that Adams was saying. He very rarely did.

"But we are still British subjects, and as such, these men are still our brothers. And never has King George himself done anything to these colonies. It is no more fair to blame him for our troubles as it is to blame a parent for what their full grown child does."

"It is only fair when that parent teaches it's children that it is perfectly all right to run roughshod over others!" While he and Adams had had their ideological differences, he had to admit that half the fun in standing his ground was in watching the little man grow more and more agitated. It would have been far wiser to simply abstain from any votes regarding the constant pleas for independence offered by New England, but simply abstaining would not have allowed him his enjoyment of watching the match be lit under an incendiary little man.

Before he could composite a counter argument, however, the door swung open, with the news of the war in Quebec proving to be as bleak as every dispatch that had come since the capture of Fort Ticonderoga. It seemed that for every step forward that the continental army took, it was forced to take three backward, and he listened in silence until it was decided that they would adjourn for the day. He paused at the door to the meeting hall, watching as Adams ascended up the stairs to the bell tower, torn between listening to his stomach's call, and waiting to finish the baiting that he had began that morning.

Deciding that dinner could wait until after he had poked and prodded Adams until such poking and prodding lost it's fun-generally something that took less than half an hour before the blows began to strike closer than he wanted them to, and he began to have the same reactions he so enjoyed provoking in Adams. He hung back for a moment, before ascending the stairs as well, finding Adams there, quill in hand, penning a letter, looking up only long enough to see who it was climbing up to see him.

"Mr. Dickinson." There was a hint of venom in the greeting as he climbed the last of the stairs to the bell tower.

"Mr. Adams."

"What brings you up here?" Adams asked, never turning away from the parchment balanced across his knees.

"I've been told it's the most beautiful view of Philadelphia."

"If one can call Philadelphia beautiful."

"Come now, John. Do you enjoy anything in life?"

"Certainly nothing that you do." He smirked, striding over until he was directly behind the man.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, John." He watched as Adams swallowed hard, never looking up from what he was writing. "There's only so much a handkerchief can hide." He hadn't planned on going anywhere near the subject, but the words came out before he could stop them. It wasn't all for naught, however, when he realized just how fetchingly the other man blushed.

"What do you want, Mr. Dickinson?"

"Want, Mr. Adams? Why I want nothing."

"Then kindly take your leave!"

"Or what?"

"Or god help me, I'll throw you from this bell tower."

"I'd like to see you try." He hadn't expected Adams to spring from his feet, tackling him round the waist. It wasn't until they were dangerously close to the window that he realized that the little man was serious, and he did his best to twist free, leaving them in a tangled heap on the floor. He was honestly surprised at the amount of strength Adams showed to pin him to the floor. But leverage was on his side, as he used his longer frame to try and toss Adams off.

He got the upper hand quite by accident, however. He had not expected Adams to freeze in shock upon the realization that he was not the only one having to hide behind handkerchiefs and copies of Poor Richard's Almanack in moments like this, and used the momentary advantage to flip them, holding the New Englander down by the wrists. "Surprised, John?" He asked, head bent town to whisper in his ear.

"N-not really."

"Don't lie, Adams. It's far from becoming on you." He rocked his hips down, and watched self-satisfied at the way that Adams had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. "I think we might be able to find the one thing that we agree upon. That it's not always so bad to be under someone else."

"Dickinson-"

"Yes, John?" He loved this. Loved watching the way the little man squirmed and fidgeted.

"Dickinson might I remind you that this is congress? This is supposed to be-supposed to be-" Whatever it was that he was trying to say had gone away from his mind as Dickinson undid his flies.

"Supposed to be what?"

"A place of honor and respect, that's what."

"Do you really believe that, John?" He grinned at the shocked gasp of sudden skin on skin. "Because I see very little honorable or respectable about the lot of us."

"Just because you are a disgrace-"

"Is that really all you think of me?" He pulled away for a moment, watching as the hips below his gave an involuntary buck, searching for any sort of contact. "I do believe you've wounded my pride." He sat back on his knees, keeping Adams' legs pinned between his, putting on a look of mock hurt.

"I'll wound more than that if you don't keep going."

"How fiesty of you, John. I knew you'd come around to see things my way soon enough."

"Never."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. I can be quite-convincing." Ending his statement with a nip to the ear he was whispering into was a gamble, but the shudder he got in response told him it had paid off. "Wouldn't you agree?" He had them both in hand, stroking almost lazily, watching as the man below him tried his best to look nonplussed.

"Dickinson-I-" There was a pause as his hand sped up, his gripped tightened. "I-" The smirk broke free into a wolfish grin as he watched blue eyes slip shut as the head below him tilted back, hands scrabbling at the floor for some sort of purchase, something to grip on to.

"Always about you, isn't it, John?" He was hardly surprised that the only response he got was a grunt as the body below him tensed and spasmed. Darting out of the way with more agility than even he thought he had, he took a short moment to compose himself before restoring the smirk back to his face. "I must remember this. The only time that John Adams has been rendered speechless." He stood, leaving the other man there to catch his breath, heading down the stairs with a decided spring in his step as he pondered the various situations wherein revenge would be had. Oh, he was sure that no doubt what Adams planned, it would certainly be enjoyable.


End file.
